


Hitting All The Walls

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Gore, Erotophonophilia, F/M, Lust Murder, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder, Oral Sex, Sadism, Sexual Violence, Stalking, Voyeurism, Yandere, except Lucas being a voyeur of course, nothing is nonconsensual, sort of...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Anon asked for: If you are taking requests, imagine Lucas meeting a girl in some creepy deep web forum. And she is just so much more fucked up than he could ever imagine? Love your writing, can't stop re—reading your fics!Done and done, well, not done because I've let this turn into another long venture and a multi-chapter story as well. It could be worse, I suppose. Hope Anon is alright with this. Thanks for the great request!Warning for: extreme gore and violence with sexual connotations and stalking. More warnings in the tags.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



**September 22, 2014**

 

Lucas - for all his bitching and moaning about how there was nuthin’ challenging job wise in this cesspool known as Dulvey, LA - had made ‘imself a modest little side venue by hacking social media sites for the internet’s long list of obsessives, maniacs and would be rapists. It was all numbers: social securities, addresses, phone lines... credit cards and I.P.’s. 

 

Sometimes it was documents too. 

 

There was this one gig a few weeks ago where some real hot n’ heavy info crossed his lap - stuff that could get more than a few paper-pushers axed and melted - but Lucas just shrugged the consequences off and finished the job. He didn’t give a shit, and off it went to some asshat hiding out in Morocco (or Washington, if his fake IP was to believed.) Bad shit happened to good people every day. So what?!

 

Idiots swarmed the internet underground. How had no one ever heard of scrambling grids? If Lucas wanted, he could tap everyone and anyone regardless of which onion router they were using… amateurs - all of ‘em..

 

Aside from the easy money, Lucas liked reminding himself how retarded most deep web surfers were. If he wasn’t having so much fun on the hunt, he’d have just up and drained his ‘customers’ bank accounts remotely. Nuthin’ stopping him really. Their so called protection was a joke. If Lucas wanted he could have them all sending encrypted emails out to Russian intelligence groups; oblivious until stuff started droppin’ outta the sky. He could flush ‘em all out. Could be swimming in a pool of gold, but that would be like typing god_mode in on a video game. After awhile the luster of cutting down bitches without taking damage would get boring. What fun was the game without a little challenge anyways?

 

His laptop dinged as another encrypted email popped up in his feed. He traded out his wireless keyboard for an old, brick one with sticky keys and sent back a quick confirmation. 

 

‘Will have login creds for you in an hour. Payment up front, buddy.’

 

Yeah, he’d get this asshole all the dirt he wanted on Susan Dowd. No worries. Once he got the transfer, converted the currency, deposited it into his sixth account, he’d get crackin’ on fuckface’s request. Lucas could get anything, but it was money upfront or nuthin.

 

Nine times outta ten it’s halfwits who wanted to do something nasty to their ex-bitches, a load of information to ruin said chicks life. He wasn’t all that concerned with the outcome of it, just that them sweet Bitcoins kept racking up. Sometimes, between the following encrypted email and his Ma’s cookin’, he’d browse the extensive list of what the recesses of the web had to offer.

 

Never a dull moment underneath the tip o’ the iceberg. 

 

Tonight was slow… usually, he had a request coming in every other hour - enough to keep him up all night, fueled by a steady stream of energy drinks and caffeine pills. He’d crash eventually, sure he did, but when he next woke up, there’d always be more currency to gain and more worthless lives to ruin. Fuck ‘em all anyway. People were scum, and the only thing Lucas had gotten outta them was this right here. ‘Sides his family, these maggots could rot for all he gave a damn. 

 

It's been an hour since the last email and Lucas could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips as he ran them over the keys, mind running ceaselessly in boredom. 

 

When Zoe texted him, ‘Dumb-dumb, dinner’s ready. Get down here before Daddy blows a gasket!’ Lucas made a face but got up anyway. His stomach was howling, and if he didn’t take a break now, his eyes would start bleedin’ again. Lucas figured he’d at least have a job come in while he was pretending to eat a burnt pork chop, but no updates pinged on his phone the whole damn time. 

 

It made him jittery - made him less reserved when his Mama asked him how his food tasted. Like shit...

 

Instead of letting his lack of ‘work’ ruin his night, he typed in a static IP, logged in under an admin user and kicked his foot up under his desk, settling in. No one bothered him in the barn. Even without the security pins and padlocks, his family preferred to text him or shout through the shutters if anything important popped up. Unless it was dinner or a fire, or the ol’ man couldn't lift something, Lucas got left to his own devices. 

 

Suited him jus’ fine. 

 

When the page loaded a fresh slew of posts had formed since the last time he'd looked. Never a dull fucking moment! Had he said that already? Meh, it might as well have been the selling point. 

 

Confession forums were the best time waster, he’d decided. Better than playing video games with a bunch of shitty tit-suckers calling each other faggot as if they were anything but squeakers. 

 

Sure, he could have read up on the best ways to skin a man, or how to tie the right knots - ensuring those pesky girls could still breath even with their tits turning purple - but he wasn’t into that shit. Half of those ‘advice’ sites were full of shit anyway. 

 

Lucas had been dragged on a few hunting trips with the old man back when he was a teenager. Skinning a man couldn’t have been all that different from skinning a buck and yet some dumbass had dedicated three gigabytes of space to talk about the intricacies of how to remove toenails properly. A man, or woman, was nothing more than an animal… they were nuthin’ but meat and bones after all. It was all shock value, Lucas had decided then. Most of the sites were, except for some that were so heavily encrypted and fucked that Lucas almost felt like a patron saint readin’ them. It was at once disgusting and satisfying to know there were people out there with more depraved and morally demented desires than he had. 

 

For all the nasty things that got his dick hard at least, he wasn't a child molester or a rapist. 

 

All his life he’d been the crazy-head - the weirdo. He’d been that guy every school counselor thought was gonna shoot up the school. There was something reassuring about the world being populated by monsters more so than people thought. They were everywhere, and eventually, when Lucas got bored of the game, he figured he’d go out with a BANG and ruin the child molesters and rapists - the ones that encouraged sick cunts to pop out kids for the sole purpose of slavery. 

 

Lucas could watch videos of bodies decomposing and women getting throat fucked til’ they vomited - hell, he was still trying to find one of those snuff films, but the way these scumbags talked about raping women, cutting their tendons and vocal cords… or doing all that stuff to little kids made him sick. 

 

Naw, confession forums were more fun than fucked up. Most of the time, anyway, and there was this one user he found entertaining more than the rest. 

 

They never had a set username - smart - just a series of numbers that always added up to thirty with a lowercase ‘c’ on the end. Didn't take long for Lucas to find out it was the police scanner code for murder by stabbing. Was pretty fitting given the confessions the person posted. 

 

The newest one he finally dug out of all the dumb shit was posted by user 6.9.2.3.3.5.1.1.c entitled ‘messy one.' That had to be them unless it was some fake bitch trying to wheedle in on the craze. Lucas licked the edge of his mouth, tasting the salt from tonight's dinner and clicked open the tab. 

 

‘Incase any of you cunts forget, hitting the main artery in some fuckers neck isn't badass. It's a goddamn mess, and I just had to set my car on fire because there's no motherfucking way anyone got time to clean up all that. The next asshat better have his title unsigned is all I'm gonna say, that and if you ever think it's funny to “shove bottle rockets up cats asses” consider there might be someone who’s homicidal AND a lover of animals…

… by the way, I killed a guy name Earl Mackintosh for putting bottle rockets up his cat's ass. He's burning with the car. May he keep burning in hell.’

 

Lucas giggled, imagining a dumb asshole flailing around inside a locked car as flames licked away his skin - fat bubbling and eyeballs melting. He wished he coulda seen that. Back when his Paused to take him hunting they'd gut the kill, skewer the moist, warm meat and roast it over a fire. The way the flames charred the flesh and turned it juicy and sizzling always fascinated him. 

 

Watching an asshole burn to death sounded enjoyable. Probably smelt like shit though... all that hair. You’d have to shave ‘em first before setting them ablaze. 

 

For some reason the idea brought his dick up to half-mast, pulsing every so often until he finally popped a sleeping pill and called it a night. 

  
  
  


**June 14, 2016**

 

It wasn’t until Lucas was a week in on his recovery from Eveline’s stupid fucking gift that he got bored enough to set up his old workstation again. The cracked iPhone his boys in black had given him could only do so much, and Lucas, despite not firing on all cylinders, wasn’t dumb enough to surf the web on a monitored phone. Dumbasses probably thought he was, but Lucas didn’t need ‘em to contact the outside world if he wanted. 

 

All he had to do was run around out back and get a couple of spare parts to jerry-rig his own signal - it wasn’t ideal, pinging off a satellite straight up like that, but he’d work with what he had for now. Now that his head was clear he’d make a few pit stops the next time his Pa sent him out to get supplies. Without Eveline inside, he’d be able to pass for something relatively healthy if he wanted to walk into a hardware store.

 

Lucas felt a trickle of tepid breath on the back of his neck but ignored it.

 

Evie was busy shoving her fingers in some new asshole, figuratively - though, he wouldn’t put it past the psychotic little bitch to yank someone's guts out through their poop-shoot. Would have been fun to watch if it wouldn’t be for all the fucking mess. At any rate, she was busy and would be for awhile, trying to talk her way into their blood. He had days to get all his gadgets back online.

 

His old laptop booted up just fine, but the old brick on the floor kept stuttering - the HDD clicking. Didn't bother him any though, he had some torrented grindhouse flicks on his laptop and around eighty gigs of music to keep him entertained while he pulled the computer apart. 

 

Getting his fingers around the tiny screws and cables, blowing dust and rat shit out of the nooks and crannies was good for his brain. After an hour or two it felt like some of the gummy webs were detaching from his brain. Gushy memories of blood and rending flesh kept getting stuck between his ears and off and on his cock would get hard remembering all the screams he’d caused - all the fucked up shit he’d done to people. 

 

A nasty, guilt-ridden feeling tried to wedge in his gut, but there hadn’t been enough time between now and the last motherfucker he’d torn apart. Even if Eveline wasn’t clawing inside his skull, it didn’t mean she hadn’t had any lasting effects. All he wanted to do was get his computer up and running, jerk off to some fake torture porn and try and sleep another day away.

 

His buddy with the specs said it’d take a week to peel away all the layers Evie had on ‘im, but Lucas didn’t think he’d ever feel like he did before she showed up. Those happy days, which felt about as good as needles shoved up his fingernails at the time, were long gone. No going back - he was different now so he might as well get used to it.

 

It took four hours to fix the brick: a whole system reboot with a scratchy CD and a spare motherboard, but it booted like a dream compared to the laptop, even without the perfect build. Lucas licked the tip of a micro screw between his teeth, grinned wide enough to crack the middle of his lower lip, and started setting up his security measures. 

 

Two days later he had internet - his old setup in full force with a couple added measures bearing in mind the shoddy internet connection he’d maintained. It took a good while to feed the system around the roof and down into the barn. Lucas speared himself on six-inches of wrought iron gate barbs, which took forever to pull himself off of, but it was worth it. 

 

Least he hadn’t been wearing his hoodie - didn’t wanna get any holes in that if he could avoid it. The damn thing reminded him of the days before Evie, something he needed as his mind started to clear. He shrugged on the hoodie as the AC kicked on again. Now that he wasn’t baked outta his fucking gourd, Lucas was on the fast track to getting back his creature comforts. Next thing on his list was to head out for some real food. 

 

There was a diner not far from here with decent waffles and bacon… jus’ thinking about it was making his stomach twist into a dry knot. 

 

Later, he told himself. He had work to do.

 

Well, work as in ‘much-needed downtime.' Lucas got everything set up on his end, found his favorite free porn site and unbuckled his pants. That fucked up flutter in his abdomen made his stomach muscles underneath the translucent skin bounce. He was gonna have to get some sun at some point. Being able to see his veins throb like that wasn’t as gratifying as it was with Evie whispering in his ear twenty-four/seven. With the laptop balanced on his spread thighs, he had the first cum since his infection… splattered all over his keyboard. 

 

Fake squeals blasted outta the frayed laptop speakers as the wash of an orgasm filtered out the underlying tension. He needed that and more later on, but jus’ the one fer now. He had work to do - a part to play and he wasn’t as conflicted about turning on his little family unit as he thought he’d be. Something lingered. Lucas had lost a piece of ‘imself to Eveline he was never gonna get back. Empathy, maybe? Not that he had much of that, to begin with. 

 

He laid there, eyes closed with the laptop pounding out sounds of elaborate fucking and visualized Zoe getting her guts slurped out by a motorized spit. Nothing, not even pleasure swam up through the fog. Something sparked and died when he thought about the old man beating on his Mama, but putting his Pa in a reversed scenario made him grin. Some feelings left then, just real skewed and fucked. Lucas could live with that. 

  
  
  


**September 8, 2017**

 

Lucas only started skimming the deep web again after he got himself situated in some bumfuck town up in Northern Louisiana. It was annoying waiting for his next tip off from the big men upstairs and staying low was less exciting than it looked in the movies. He always figured getting chased by people with bigs guns and super soldiers would be more… entertaining. But it ain't, and he's been stuck in this derelict motel room for two days without a word on his end where he was supposed to meet his next ‘human’ smuggler. 

 

Every day that passed without meeting his correspondent allowed Lucas more time to sit around and second guess what he was fixin’ to do. No guarantees he wasn't gonna get tossed on a slab and dissected. Didn't like not knowing things fer sure as much as he liked the idea of that dumbass with the crew cut waltzing in here and splattering his brains across the shag carpet. 

 

Lucas would rather take a shower, head to the bank and transfer all his earnings from three years ago into one account, buy himself some land out in the middle of nowhere - some place with a big basement and a Walmart nearby. He had a notebook in his head of things he wanted to build, experiments he wanted to try, and the world was full of fuckers that wouldn't be missed. He'd have to be more careful with who he picked up now that Lucas didn't have Eveline as a failsafe, but he could manage without getting caught. Not like any local law could keep him contained. 

 

As long as he avoided Umbrella and his own shady ‘friends’ he could do this shit long term. 

 

It was just mindless thinking. The deal Lucas was gonna get with what's-his-name was solid, and he liked the terms, but it all hinged on if he could trust ‘em. He couldn't. Not really anyhow. 

 

He decided it better to let the cards fall where they may, and ordered two large pizzas over the free wifi and clicked on the TV. Something about the cheap, grainy screen and mangled audio put his nerves at ease. A jumpy energy was making his fingers snap over the keys of his laptop too often. Needed to calm the fuck down. Overthinking - makin’ him have to retype everything!

 

One hour later he finally had his fingers unclenched, and a box of greasy pizza laid open on the cheap motel bed. He was on a hunt; sick and fucking tired of being cooped up in this shithole. It almost made him miss Evie and his rotten family, but only almost.

 

Lucas had a slice of pizza rolled up and shoved between his teeth when he was browsing the confession forums and stumbled upon a post from eighteen months ago from user 10.9.11.c - entitled ‘sorry, not sorry.’ With an oily grin and dribbles of sauce leaking down his chin, Lucas double clicked the link and skimmed the short little confession. 

 

‘I went looking for someone to kill this time. I haven’t done that yet, but I found some guy at a bar out in Texarkana after two days of driving who liked to talk about how much I looked like his daughter. I’m not proud, but I sucked his dick before sawing it off. I’m not sure what to do with the body.”

 

There was a little moment where some of the synapses in Lucas’ brain short-circuited, before the flashing sign ‘girls, girls, girls’ honked behind his eyes. 30.c was a chick, and she liked to suck dick and slice up miscreants and burn em’ and let ‘em rot. His heart did a pitter patter it hadn’t done in a long ass time just thinking about stumbling into some derelict bar, bumping into her and getting a wet, messy blowjob before she tried to cut him into little pieces. Lucas imagined shaking off each slice and dismemberment, coming back each time for another suck and fuck.

 

His dick was hard as he swallowed his bite of pizza, reading the confession over and over. Unless 30.c was some transvestite, then she had a cunt and a predilection for violence that got putrid blood gushing in his veins, most notably into his cock.

 

Lucas was set on finding this chick, whether he missed the meet and greet with the men in black or not. Who the fuck needed ‘em anyway? He could pull together some real True Romance shit with this pussy as long as she didn’t look like his sister… or his fuckin’ Ma. 

 

Yeah, he re-read the confession with aching eyes and wedged a hand down the front of his pants, “Down boy… hehe’haaaa, we gotta be patient with this delicate bitch. Ooh, don’t we?!”

 

It took the better part of the night and another call to the pizza delivery joint to pin her location. Lucas pulled up Google maps, typed in the coordinates, squinting at the pixelated view of some strip mall out in Fouke, east of Texarkana. Hadn’t gone far then, he thought looking at the time on his laptop. Lucas pulled up a route from his location to hers. He could be there by seven in the morning if he paid up at the toll booths… but fuck that. Seven-thirty still sounded good. Maybe she was a late riser, and he could catch her in bed, figure out if she was cute enough to let her suck his dick or not.

 

Lucas grinned, closed his laptop and started packing. Even at one-twenty in the morning, in a shit motel with sluts fucking johns in the room next to his, the parking lot was dead. He decided to leave the crap sedan he’d stolen back in Dulvey and hotwire a white VW that looked like every other car on the highway. It probably belonged to that jackoff getting herpes in room six o’ two next to him.

 

Even better, then.

 

One inside he disabled the onboard roadside support, typed in the car’s plate number and made a few changes to the Louisiana DMV database just in case one of the cops thought it was a good idea to pull him over. Lucas lifted his laptop, gave it a quick smirk and took a picture with the webcam. Two minutes and he had everything set up. It didn't matter if Lucas didn’t have physical papers and a driver’s license, he could make up some bogus story and take a ticket and be back on his way… or he could say fuck it and get his hands dirty again - dripping with pig blood. The interstate had plenty of unmarked graves filled with the unwanted and cops alike. What was the harm in Lucas adding another along the way? 

 

Didn't bother him any. 

 

Feeling giddy, Lucas hooked up his laptop to the car's speaker system and blasted some real music. Just loud enough to see a few windows light up before he reversed in a squeal of burnt rubber and peeled off onto the highway. His blood was singing in his veins, bubbling behind his eyes and something similar enough to satisfaction kept his foot floored on the gas pedal. 

 

30.c was about to meet a long time admirer.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm over halfway done with this, so updates should be every other day, depending. Let me know what you think in the comments if you have time. As always thank you for reading, and big THANKS for Zoadgo for BETA-ing this for me - you are awesome. <3


	2. Chapter 2

**September 9, 2017**

 

Lucas was standing in the middle of a stucco-built bank as an old bitch that looked too much like his dear ol’ Ma counted out stacks of hundreds in front of him. He’d drawn attention, and he hated it. Part of him liked the jealous edge to the eyes watching him, but mainly he wanted to shove them all in a pit of hungry pigs and watch as pink snouts buried down in the soft bellies of these dumbasses. The eyes were unrelenting, triggering some pathetic old memories of sitting in a lunchroom at school while mouths muttered around silent insults - while gazes ran over his back. 

 

It made him itch.

 

After twenty minutes, Susie Homemaker finally put thirteen grand in a yellow manilla envelope for him, and Lucas got the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. Fucking ATM withdrawal limits…

 

He needed cash after sitting around that strip mall in Fouke for ten hours trying to catch 30.c’s IP address. She hadn’t made any posts in over six months and for all Lucas knew she was out of the country by now. Could be dead in a drainage ditch with bugs nesting in her empty eye sockets or could be she had her lips wrapped around another victim, sucking their cocks dry. 

 

A shudder ran down his stomach as he sat in the VW. Lucas imagined some hot, fat-titted blonde with a pocket knife and red-painted lips guzzling down cum before slitting his throat. 

 

“What?” Lucas mocked, with his nose wrinkled up like shit had billowed out of the envelope, “Couldn't ‘ave broken this shit down into twenties fer me, huh?!”

 

He sneered, rolling up three hundred bucks and stuffed the envelope under the driver's seat. A shopping trip to Walmart for a few essentials and then to the hardware store for the rest would get him settled in long enough to figure  out  where his near-future girlfriend was hiding. A bag of skittles wouldn’t be a bad idea either… or a six-pack of energy drinks. It wasn’t like he needed the caffeine anymore - not really - but it’d make him feel a bit less inhuman for the evening.

 

In the span of four hours and three bright yellow energy drinks, Lucas had a new computer set up in some shitty backwoods motel off the beaten path. His laptop maintained a constant search for local IP access points on the deep web across a greater fifty-mile radius. He’d cross checked all of 30.c’s posts over the past four years, noting that every single one showed up under an access point within the local area. So she lived nearby. Which meant he was close enough...

 

It'd take some time to come up with a list of possibilities, but as the hours ticked down, he started enjoying the hunt more than he thought he would. It was a different kinda high than the one he got watching retards run like mice through his games. This all felt a bit more barebones, and Lucas liked it. It got his dick hard a couple times whenever he thought about tit-fucking 30.c… or sneaking up on her while she slept to press his hips into her ass; freak her out a bit before letting her loose on a chase. Somehow, he wasn’t sure she’d be a runner. She seemed more like the kind of chick to snarl, struggle and take a chunk out of his neck before letting some prick have his way with her.

 

At ten-thirty his laptop made a soft chime, startling him out of some bleary edge of waking and dreaming. Stale sugar soaked into his tongue while he rolled off the bed to the floor, grumbling towards the screen with a long list of numbered IP’s. There was about eight hundred of them.

 

“And here, ladies and gentleman, we commence with part two of mah’ master plan,” he growled; sleep still trapped behind his eyes and deep down in his throat.

 

It was all very dull - all he had to do was separate them by specific browser history tags and user data. What were they searching? Did they have an admin account set on their computer with chick sounding credentials? With a sloppy grin, Lucas added ‘Texarkana: Google Maps' to the search history and hit enter. The program he’d tweaked several years ago did the hard part.

 

All he had to do now was sit back and wait for the juicy details to lay themselves down at his feet. He could almost taste that pussy already…

  
  


**Day Whatever…**

 

Dan was awful in the sense that a wormy apple was awful. He looked alright on the outside, but she knew well enough how rotten he was beneath the flesh. The idea of getting him lazy and docile with a quick blowjob felt disgusting, even for her, but she wasn't exactly robust enough to handle a man his size without something more than a bit of booze clouding his judgment. Besides, sometimes alcohol just made people like him less amiable and more pigheaded; stronger. 

 

Even without having sucked his dick, she imagined he spat out black corruption rather that curdled jizz, which in of itself was terrible. What was it about dudes like him that produced gross semen? Was it their all red meat diets and predisposition to chug beers more often than they did their own hubris? Danny - bulky, dumb, wife-beating Danny would follow her home for a ‘handjob’ and think to himself he could squeeze more out of her, but that would be his downfall. Better men than him had tried and failed. 

 

At this rate, she noted how his left asscheek hung off his stool, he wouldn’t be very coordinated if he decided an ol’ handy wouldn’t cut it. 

 

She’d make do. 

 

The fucker needed to die, and she needed to kill. The stagnant energy in her blood was starting to boil and fester, and the idea of slicing this human junk pile to bits was making her cunt flood. Without her panties on the moisture was dangerously close to sliding down her inner knees.

 

Time to seal the deal before she made a fool of herself.

 

With a steady breath, Quinn finished her double shot of rum and coke, shoved a fiver under the glass and triple checked her cleavage. The sight of nearly bare tit would get this dickbags attention, as well as a ham hock would her dog Dixon. 

 

She almost laughed when Dan turned around as if he could smell pussy from across the room; eyes beelining for her chest. It’d be a lie if she said she didn’t get a few kicks out of playing this role - the bar slut with a dripping cunt, looking for another hard dick to stuff inside the empty hole where… whatever should be. Father's love maybe? It didn’t matter her backstory. None of these guys ever bothered to dig that deep.

 

“Hey, there,” she whispered, lowering her lashes with an indulgent, half-drunk smile. The ‘close to orgasm’ voice always worked. 

 

Chapped, fat lips stretched in place on Dan's long oxen face. Might have been a quarterback in high school given the width of his chest and shoulders. His nose looked like he’d broken it a couple times and one of his ears looked puffy like some z-list boxer. 

 

“Sweet bay’beh Jesusss, look’it you, sweetie.”

 

“... Yeah, look at me.” She twisted her lips higher. 

 

Quinn took a seat beside him, elbows positioned close on the sticky bar table - breasts pressed tightly together - and pictured the way he looked in his mugshot. His wife was still in the hospital while his buddies paid his bail and what was it a charmer like him did? - why he went out drinking of course. 

 

Two guys down at the bar glared at her in that misogynistic way men did when they wanted a pussy that was being thrown at some other dick. It was a two-way street with guys like that. You were either a sweetie or a bitch, and the deciding factor was always whether you kept your pussy to yourself or decided to share it with them. She could almost see the mechanisms behind their skulls. Each sordid brain, visualizing dark sexual encounters that led to her sobbing and bleeding into a bare mattress no doubt. You learn a lot about scum when you actively put yourself in their midst, she thought, almost smiling.

 

The wet, soft folds of her cunt slipped between her thighs as she crossed them, twisting at the waist. Dan didn’t flinch when she slide a hand around his back, cupping his shoulder. Not once did the concept of forced touch cross his mind. Must be nice, she thought dimly, still smiling. 

 

His eyes never veered off her tits, even when she leaned in and whispered softly into his ear, “I’ve got a hot… wet, little pussy that needs a real ‘fat’ cock to fill it.”

 

His breath puffed audibly, and Quinn took perverse enjoyment watching his eyeballs shifting in his skull; thinking about what was just proposed. 

 

“Think you can help me?” She finished, offering up her best baby girl smile for him. 

 

He slipped off his stool so fast she nearly toppled.

 

“Alright, boys… “ he groaned, casting a quick look over at the two nasty bastards down the line, and belched behind a fist, “look’like I’m not needin’ that ride.”

 

Too fucking easy, she smirked, wrapping her hands around a muscular limp arm. Someone muttered a nasally ‘cunt’ behind her, but that was it. This fucker had to be the easiest one of them yet - a real pimple on the earth’s asshole.  

 

As she got him in her car, his hand gripping her thigh so hard it pulsed, she wondered how she was going to get someone of his size out of the house. There was that old axe in the shed out back and a couple equally rusty saw blades. After the fun was over, she’d probably need to head down to the hardware store for a saw handle… wouldn’t hurt to pick up some more bleach from the grocer and a pound of beef for burgers later tonight. 

 

Her stomach was rumbling… maybe she’d just pick up some burgers from the diner before she headed back to deal with Dan? Quick an’ easy that way. Next time she’ll remember to eat a big lunch before going out on these types of runs. 

 

“I can smell your cunt from here,” the sack of shit beside her said, his fat fingers running up her inner thigh to slip through her lubed flesh. 

 

Quinn held her breath, swallowed and focused on the road as he tried to finger fuck her for the next five minutes. Too drunk to know what he was doing, or maybe he just sucked at it. Wouldn’t put it past someone like him to not know his way around a vagina except which hole to fuck. The guy probably didn't even know that much. He seemed the type to let it ‘slip’ once in awhile for his own perverse enjoyment. 

 

Thankfully he seemed eager to get out of the car, leaving her to catch her breath before shutting off the engine. This wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d have liked if he was already stumbling up to her door. 

 

Quinn pulled a karambit knife from under her seat, slid it under the elastic waistband of her dress, underneath her leather jacket and hopped out of the car. Worse came to worse she could hook him by the neck and put her whole body into jerking the blade through tendons, artery, and hard esophagus tissue. 

 

What happened back in Texas wouldn’t happen again…

 

Dan had his hands on her ass and his broken nose stuffed along the back of her neck as she unlocked her front door. Without Dixon to greet her, she felt a sudden, sinking loneliness along with a keen sense of vulnerability as well. It didn’t last though, and before her victim's hands could wander up her back, over the blade, she dashed forward, turned and grinned. Like a game, her brain supplied. 

 

“Eager beaver aren't we?” She quipped, put some pep in her step and skipped out of his arms towards her kitchen. Dan growled -  a sound that should have been inhuman, but something she’d heard enough by now to know how human it really was. Scum. Waste… nothing but a pile of meat and gray matter that couldn’t sustain more than baser, primal thoughts, just like the one that got him following her mindlessly into the tile-floored kitchen. 

 

Nary a single thought was spared to wonder if he was in danger or not. No, a man like this had been the danger people feared all his life… and tonight was the night the tables were gonna get turned. 

 

Quinn hopped up on her counter, hiked up her dress and spread her thighs. If he wasn’t so disgusting, she might have entertained letting him fuck her, but even with the adrenaline rushing up and down her spine, flooding into the nerves and blood vessels surrounding her cunt, she wouldn’t dare let his prick touch her. Respect for herself was one part of it… the other was being unable to forget the photos of his wife sitting in her hospital bed, alone and broken. 

 

“Hey, honey…” she sighed, “come over here and fuck this.” 

 

His bloodshot eyes were fixated on the way she ran her fingers down the sloppy line of her cunt, swirling her middle digit over the hood of her clit with a moan only half-faked. This was going to be good - she could taste this one already. Once that warm wet blood was spilling… sweet baby Jesus, indeed.

 

The human refuse she’d brought home crossed the kitchen, gave her wet cunt a sideways look of intoxication, both alcohol and lust-based before dropping like a dead man to his knees. 

 

Quinn startled, choked on a breath before keeping her legs open, trying not to tremble. This was a first. Not one of her chosen victims had thought to… fuuck! 

 

It had been too long. 

 

Long, aimless strokes of his tongue tried their best to replicate a man who knew what he was doing, but Quinn was a bit too drunk on what was about to happen to not be receptive. It felt good and the few moans she let slip weren't hammed up for him, though they should have been. Better than sucking cock. 

 

If he wanted to eat her out, then that was fine… hell, it was easier this way.

 

Dan smacked his lips, made a long hungry sound before opening his mouth wide against her cunt, shoving his tongue far enough inside her that his nose made her clit ache. That tight, internal band of heat wrapped around her stomach, falling down deeper, concentrating above her mound. With a great gasp, Quinn braced the heel of her foot on his right shoulder, watching the way his eyelids fluttered closed as he ate her out. The karambit caught in her dress as she tugged it loose, but what was one cheap dress compared to killing? 

 

Curved steel caught the light above her kitchen sink, but Dan was nose deep in pussy, sucking and tonguing… thinking he was about to sink his cock inside her soon. 

 

Quinn wasn’t sure why a man with his reputation would also willingly kneel down for some ‘bar slut,' but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the blade brushing against the side of his neck, soft enough the fucker didn’t even flinch until she was trembling. He just tugged her down deeper into his hungry mouth until she laid a fist over his head, keeping him still as he lapped at her like a tactless boar. 

 

“Little more…” she gasped, rolling her hips into his face - the pressure mounting. 

 

Her orgasm was intense; fueled by anticipation and danger and the knowledge that as she rode out the bliss, this asshole would be cold by the time the endorphins from his efforts had faded. As the last wave crashed, she giggled, twisted her wrist and stabbed him in the side of the neck.

 

Nothing quite like flesh parting for sharpened steel. 

 

His lips opened against her cunt, trembling as she shirked the blade, wedging the curved end inside his neck until she felt a snag of a hard tendon. With the fingers in his hair gripping tight and her foot on his shoulder keeping him steady, Quinn licked her lower lip and sawed through the front of his throat until the splatters on her floor sounded akin to a broken fire hydrant rather than a trickle. 

 

More pleasure swam up against her belly. Her cunt fluttered. Her heart raced, and with a faint groan, she tossed him back against the sopping wet floor. 

 

There, on the countertop, she slipped her fingers down through the mess of fluids and spit, found her tender clit and swirled her thumb over the nub as Dan - not long for this world - sputtered there below her feet. His eyes shifted, oh so slowly. 

 

Blood bubbled out of the significant length of open flesh, pooling in the grout lines before overflowing in an ever expanding puddle. It was there that Quinn bowed forwards, a bare foot on the counter and the other shivering against her cabinetry, and came again. It was harder and longer and so much more pure than whatever he’d given her… so sweet she nearly let it send her in the mess he’d made.

 

He looked better half-dead than he ever did alive. 

 

Quinn let the lingering pleasure cloud her mind, enjoying it like a meth head would a weekend-long stint, and let herself marvel on the exact moment it was Dan died. Thanks to all the blood, she couldn’t smell the shit of death, just the sounds of his stomach gurgling.

 

Another one down, she thought, making a mental note to do something special to celebrate number ten. It was hard to gage exactly how many kills most people got in before getting caught, but ten was something to be proud of, Quinn reckoned. 

 

Perhaps after Dan was disposed of, she’d make herself those burgers after all - buy some expensive rum and go watch the stars on the roof as she masticated that onion burger. 

 

Dan made another death gurgle almost in time with her own rumble of hunger…

 

“Yeah, suppose you’re right,” she mused, arching her brow at the dead fucker on her floor, “food sounds good after that.” 

 

She needed some energy before taking care of this mess.

  
  
  
  


**September 12, 2017**

 

Out of eight-hundred and twenty-two potentials in the area, Lucas had narrowed that number down to one-hundred and four and then spent two days hacking each one - snooping through their folders, social media accounts and anything else he could find. Out of all that, he’d narrowed it further down until he had four addresses and a stack of printouts on each of ‘em. 

 

He visited the first one since she lived just outside of Fouke in a tiny trailer park called Sunshine Groves. Lucas watched her for three days, but the only time she left her trailer was to walk her miniature white puffball of a dog and smoke half a pack of cigarettes. She was thirty-four, lived off disability and brought home two different guys in the time Lucas had hunkered down outside her place. Each fat asshole left alive and well, so Lucas crossed her off. A trailer didn’t provide enough seclusion to kill a man anyway - that shit took time and space and some level of isolation… plus she had those long fake nails and how the fuck could someone kill a man while worrying about those plastic claws snapping off?

 

The second one on his list was a nineteen-year-old that googled more questions about serial killers than the average sadist did. She lived at home with her grandma and aunt in an apartment complex on the Arkansas side of Texarkana. Took him a day to figure out it wasn’t her - the squawking between her and her family that came from her laptop speakers wasn’t that of someone who knew how to get away with murder.

 

Lucas crossed her off his list, gassed up at a one-pump station, grabbed an armful of snacks and sodas and made his way to Ogden, which was nothing more than a one-room church and two-dozen houses spread out across about five miles or so. 

 

Miss Quinn seemed hopeful. Isolation? Check. Plus her browser history was all sorts of fucked and arousing. The only thing he didn't like was the lack of personal pictures on her computer… 

 

He pulled up a few doors down from her blue, farm-style house with a sap-coated white sedan parked out front. The whole street was dead - dead trees, empty, gray and quiet. The sun was setting, and so Lucas turned off the car, shrugged on his hoodie and tapped into her laptop speakers with a couple clicks of his keyboard. 

 

There was silence for an hour until the sound of a door opening got him perked up in the backseat like a midnight erection. He entered a quick command to gain access to her webcam. The dim view of a kitchen popped to life on his screen - nothing fancy… except what looked like a bloody towel on the counter and a wad of red paper towels. Lucas almost laughed at how perfect it was. This had to be her… or she’d stubbed her toe real fuckin’ good.

 

‘No… I’m not doing that again - because, I said so. You can’t just call me up two days beforehand and expect me to drop everything!’

 

Lucas felt a slow, sappy smirk stretch his face. This Quinn sounded sexy. Outside the focus of her camera, doors slammed, and something heavy was being moved. She made an exaggerated groan into what he could assume was the phone. If she had a landline that would be frustrating to get into. He’d have to break into her house that way - a prospect he wasn’t super into until he was sure she was 30.c.

 

‘Get off your fucking high-horse, Jimmy! If you want someone to go with you then call up that cousin of yours, I’m not some second thought of yours. And I ain’t that hard up for dick to drive all the way to Louisiana for it - no, no - we’re not doing that. Goodbye!’

 

In the backseat of his stolen VW, Lucas held his breath as her footsteps grew louder.

 

‘Asshole,’ she muttered, walking out into her kitchen with the tightest little shorts Lucas had ever seen; tight and short enough to show the bottom curve of her supple ass. Dammit, Lucas sat there with his fingers going white around the edges of his laptop and hoped on Eveline’s ash-pile that this was her. Fuck - he wanted to bend her over the counter top with her knife stuck in his chest while she begged for his dick. Hormones were crushing his throat while he upped the gamma on his screen so he could watch her better against the darkness of the kitchen. 

 

She laid an iPhone down beside the sink. Perfect, Lucas thought. As soon as she plugged that bitch into her laptop, he’d upload a little tracker so he could keep a better eye on her while she was out and about. 

 

Quinn - sweet-ass Quinn - itched the back of her thigh as she blocked out the view of the bloody mess. Lucas raked his lower lip with the edge of his front teeth and watched as she pulled out something that looked like lighter fluid from under the sink. 

 

He slid a few fingers over his crotch, feeling dull pleasure swim up his stomach as his cock went half hard. It didn’t take much these days to get the blood rushing down south. He’d never been all that preoccupied with sex or cummin’ until Eveline came along. Even now he had to make time to beat off once at day or so. Jus’ enough to take the edge off. 

 

Quinn stuffed the evidence of some mishap into a large brown paper bag, took the lighter fluid and stepped out of the kitchen.

 

Ten minutes later Lucas noticed her chimney smoking.

 

Yeah, this was her, he thought with a teeth-touching grin. He hummed as he crossed off the fourth girl on his list and drew a messy circle around Quinn Whitted - the girl of his fuckin’ dreams!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plots thickens...
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading! Please, if you the time, let me know what you thought of this chapter. It's only gonna get more messy. 
> 
> Thanks to Zoadgo for Betaing this for me and Darth Fucamus for her insights with this story. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**September 20, 2017**

 

Lucas threw his sneakers up on the passenger seat, cushioned the back of his head with a bent arm and rested his laptop over his stomach, watching the unflattering view of her getting changed. Based from the bottom view he had of her chest she’d put her phone on a dresser, or a chair... something that didn’t matter because he watched with a lazy grin as she reached around to unhook her bra. Lucas had his toes curled in his shoes, ready to get another eyeful of tit but she walked outta sight at the last second…

 

“Gaww’damn it…”

 

If only he’d had the balls to install some cameras in her place while she was out instead of relying on erratic iPhone angles. The half-hard dick pushing up against the crotch of his pants was left to deflate when she finally picked her phone back up, wearing an oversized sweater.

 

“What ah’ damn tease,” he mumbled, kicking the car door with a throaty growl. He needed to jerk off - had to get a good look at her while he squeezed a load outta his cock at the very least. What he really wanted to do - what he wasn’t gonna do - was tail her to her next pitstop, play along with her little game and get her back to her place so he could turn the tables on her. Let her try and hack him up into little pieces… let her kiss him and suck him off and take up that razor blade with the darkest of intentions.  Something suicidal in Lucas wanted to go out with his dick in her mouth as his throat wept blood. 

 

_ Wanna die spurtin’ a load in her mouth _ , he thought as his cock throbbed at the thought.

 

‘Course it’d be better just to get in her good graces and have one of them soul-sucking blowjobs without gettin’ gutted, but Lucas wasn’t averse to laying there as her phone’s camera went dark and imagining all sorts of disgusting outcomes. It didn’t get him off, but it was it’s own reward knowing all he knew about her already.

 

Over the past week Lucas found out that Quinn, when not dressed to impress, liked to walk around her house in a Metallica shirt and stretchy yoga shorts. Those shorts could have been painted on for all the good they did covering up the crease of pussy between her thighs and that lip of bubbled flesh where her ass met the backs of her thighs. 

 

She liked playing mobile games on the toilet, naked, before her morning shower which had already fueled at least two cum stains in the VW so far. 

 

Aside from what his dick liked about her, which was everything - including her normal looking face with some of the softest lookin’ lips Lucas had ever seen, she also had good taste in music. The industrial metal she had on like white noise was interesting. The clean, but sparse home was noteworthy and everything, even down to the way she talked to herself about bullshit, got him excited. 

 

Sometimes she'd get angry and break somethin’ but she hadn't done that for a couple days now. 

 

Only thing Lucas didn't like was this asshat that kept calling her. She had an ex-boyfriend or cousin… or someone that kept wanting her to come back home for a wedding. The guy sounded like every half-wit he’d gone to school with. Not a single word left that idiot's mouth without it sounding part-laced in alcohol.

 

Quinn should just gut him, Lucas thought as he stuffed chili-cheese fries in his mouth, sitting in a fast food drive thru with his laptop on the passenger seat. He was kicked back, looking at his laptop with three screens pulled up: two for each camera on her phone and a third for the phone screen. She was looking through IMDB on her phone while the glow from the tv melded with the yellow light from her phone, making her look like some plastic mannequin in a shopping mall. 

 

Still hot, though, he had to admit. 

 

For someone who liked to pick up assholes, kill ‘em, then burn the evidence, she didn’t leave the house often. Lucas had tailed her to a grocery store the other day, pretended he was carrying a shopping list he couldn’t figure out as he filtered through aisles, brushing past her once or twice. Part of him wanted to take her elbow and throw her face first into the freezer doors, crack her nose or temple maybe, and feel how hard she could punch back. 

 

The last time she left the house was to pick up her dog from the vets in the next town over. 

 

Lucas didn’t have a problem with dogs, but a big hound like the one she had would make his life harder… and if she was gonna be his girlfriend then he couldn’t kill the dog. Had to improvise. Finding her dead mutt on her lawn might put her off. She was an animal lover and Lucas knew what she did to assholes who abused ‘em. ‘Sides, Lucas liked hounds… used to have one awhile back before Eveline did what she did best to it.

 

No killin’ the dog, then. He'd have to stop at the grocer and buy some fried pig fat to keep it busy once he finally got the balls to invade her physical space. Until then he was content to jerk off in the back of the car and figure her out a bit more. Quinn did a good job pretending she was just an average chick in some tight jeans and a baggy shirt, but he knew better. What everyone else saw was only the tip of the iceberg. She was something unique and shiny.

 

He watched her login into her online banking account as he slurped on a frozen soda. Girl had money somehow. Most chicks her age didn’t have over three-hundred grand in their savings account, but this one did. Explained why she didn’t work, but not how she came across all that money. Lucas figured a relative died or she got lucky in some settlement. After all his snoopin’ he couldn’t figure that one out yet, but it didn’t really matter all that much in the grand scheme of things. 

 

Quinn transferred five-hundred bucks into her checking account and laid the phone there on the sofa for the next hour. It was just enough time for Lucas to drive himself back to her street, park beside the crossroad and watch her step out her front door. She blew a kiss inside and locked up.

 

**Sometime in the evening…**

 

She was getting sloppy. There was no planning behind this one and that was what got people caught by the cops - locked away in a padded cell. 

 

If she was gonna see number twelve, then this couldn’t happen anymore. One time thing. Just this once, she told herself as her heart lurched. She’d be better at controlling herself after this guy was gone. A promise to herself and to Jimmy. What would happen to Dixon if she got incarcerated?! 

 

“Never again…” Quinn whispered as she entered the flat dirt roads outside of Ashdown, cutting off her headlights. 

 

The moon was out enough that she wasn’t driving blind, but there was something about driving so close on the tailend of a killing that cut her focus down by half. Even if she’d had her high beams on her cordination would be fuckey, it was only more apparent now as she skidded over some uneven terrain, trying desperately not to do anything more stupid than what she’d already done. Quinn had to calm herself; had to take deep, gentle breaths and calm… the… fuck… down.

 

Like Pavlov's dog she felt her panties soaking against the car seat. That hard, glorious pulse of blood between her thighs digging desperately into the edge of the seat. Her hands were locked on the steering wheel and the blood that had sprayed out of fuckface’s throat was already drying down the side of her face. 

 

The smells… the excitement of it all was her biggest enemy right now. Quinn tried not to think about it, but every inhale forced her hips down; dry humping the useless edge of the soft seat cushion. Every other minute she was debating whether she had the time to pull over and shove a hand down her pants. It wouldn’t take long. All she’d have to do was unbutton her jeans, throw a foot up on the dash and rub her clit just how she liked it - wouldn’t take but a minute or two, and it’d feel good. 

 

Oh fuck, yes it would. With her eyes hot on this bastard… with the laceration weeping from his throat to his navel. All that blood.

 

“...fuuuu’uck, god fucking damnit,” she whimpered, tossing her hips down, churning her cunt as pleasure and sick bliss swam up. Color dotted the outskirts of her vision as she took a hard right down an unmarked road. She wanted it so bad she could feel her pulse in her cunt. 

 

Licking her lips, Quinn spared the dead guy a quick longing look, mashing down in her seat with a heavy, long lasting groan. This was getting of hand, a part of her brain realized, but an even greater portion was begging her to stop the car and fuck herself.  

 

Nameless asshole lay slumped in the passenger seat, shoved down so his head wasn’t above the dash. She drove carefully, taking the deadest route she could think of as she headed down to the old bromine factory. Not even horny teens went there anymore. It was devoid of anything valuable and it reeked… perfect for burning miscreants. She’d burnt her first and third there. 

 

The ends of his shirt had ridden up over his lower back, exposing the ends of a back tattoo. Even now, as reckless as it’d been, she didn’t regret this one. Could be he deserved it more than some of the others but still, it had been stupid of her. Smartest thing to do would have been to flirt with him, get his number and meet up somewhere so she could do this privately instead of in a fucking drugstore parking lot. What if they’d had cameras?! 

 

Oh fuck...oh’fuck’oh’fuck… she was so fucked. She’d never felt so out of her mind as she did now. Between the unquenched arousal and the panic Quinn barely made the turn down the old factory road.

 

Sweat started to run down her forehead, thinking about her game being up and over - about spending the rest of her life in some prison cell while the world kept puking out scum that got away. It was almost enough to make her laugh. Sure, she liked adding a dash of glitter and sprinkles to what she did, but the truth was she got off on it. Killing got her wet - made her cum so much harder than anything ever had before and it didn’t matter how many bastards she killed, she still did it for herself. Quinn could tell herself she was doing the world a service but it was all about the reward at the end.

 

She swiped away a line of sweat with the back of her hand, tried to ignore the burning between her thighs as she made the journey to the black monument of chemical worship. The factory was a pitch stain on the horizon, darker even than the night sky. As always, it was deserted but she couldn’t pause to fuck herself yet, even if her guts were writhing for it. 

 

While she hefted number eleven out of the car, she worried that, given enough time between killing him and disposing of him she’d lose that tangled lust she loved so much. Maybe burning him in an old shipping drum would bring some of it back if it started fading too quickly. 

 

God, she fucking hoped so.

 

It took twenty minutes of dragging dead weight, haphazardly wrapped in a thrift store jacket so the blood didn’t seep onto the concrete floors, before she left him to stink up the joint while she headed back outside. The plan was the same as if she’d been prepared. Her trunk was always filled with a spare can of gasoline and a roadside emergency kit, which worked wonders if one knew how to use it right. 

 

Halfway through the darkness Quinn paused with her heel on the floor, frozen in place. Something breathed. She blinked within the empty black. The factory floor was an open and sprawling plan in the light of day but at night it felt like she might as well have been floating in space. The sound of that hard breath in the distance made the walls wedge into her skin. Someone - something…

 

It felt like a solid fifteen minutes that she stood there, searching blindly. Her ears lay strained for any sound but nothing came. A thousand eyes were on her - something hungry and deadly stalking her. This was what a jack rabbit felt like in a clearing with hawks poised, circling at night, seeing the furry morsel’s little heartbeat skip and skip and skip… and skip.

 

“... No,” she sounded. It was nothing - it was just-

 

Something scuffed the ground to her right, nearly pulling a fucking scream from her throat, but it could have as easily been a rat as it could a maniac. Another ten minutes passed with no sound, so Quinn resolved herself and trekked out of the Factory, knowing a knife in her back pocket would make her feel less vulnerable.

 

The plan. It was all about getting rid of the rapist over there. Step one: get the fuel.

 

She had the lighter in her front pocket for igniting the blaze. There was a plan in her head - foggy though it was - despite the suddenness of the kill this time and the phantom sounds in the darkness which more than likely were a product of her own frantic mind. She’d actually begun to feel a bit less shocked by everything by the time she reached the doors but right there, under the pale glow of the moon, cast in black and blue, was another car parked beside her own.

 

Quinn stood there, paralyzed with a spur in her throat. 

 

She didn’t know how long she stood there… or how long her heart went without beating, but after a while of no monster springing from the night, she took a step forward and then another and another still until she was circled halfway around the strange car, seeing enough inside to note that it was driverless. 

 

That breathing in the factory, her mind supplied. That warm, muggy feeling along the left side of her arm. Someone had been there - was still there! 

 

Shit! She twisted hard into the dirt, checked the perimeter, her own car and saw nothing. No driver meant someone had parked and followed her inside. She hadn’t heard anything - hadn’t heard or seen anything! Had she been that brain dead to not notice a fucking car following her?!

 

This was a prime reason why Jimmy, despite being an idiot, was right once in awhile. She should have gotten a gun, just in case. Sure - it was easy killing orgasm-fucked guys who didn't see it coming, but in this situation? Someone was here and they knew what she was up too… or they knew enough to be dangerous. Hell, somehow this person had been scant inches from her back there. Whoever it was, they'd seen her in the black nothingness between Nameless and the front gates.

 

Quinn decided right then that she'd leave. 

 

Fuck it, she thought, so close to getting in the car and peeling off before the stark remembrance of her jacket underneath Nameless assaulted her. It had her own blood on it from a month ago, back when she'd nicked her palm while wearing it. Her fluids were mixing with his in that well-worn flannel fabric. It was a death sentence. If this person who’d tailed her was out to turn her in, all they’d need was that jacket and a DNA test.

 

For the first time in a long while, she stood there not knowing what to do. The darkened landscape offered no advice and the knives in her car offered little security. Still, what choice did she have? There were no two ways about it, she had to go back inside and get that jacket back. 

 

She took a few minutes to pump herself up; whispering quotes from Rocky and anything else she could think of until she was bouncing on her heels with her Dad’s tactical ten-incher in her left hand. Ready as she was ever gonna be, she took her first silent step into the factory, inhaling the stench of bromine and blood.

 

Followed the wrong woman, asshole, she thought. 

 

The darkness felt ten-thousand times more oppressive than it had when she was convinced it was empty and the shadows - what little there were thanks to the dull blue raining down from the busted skylights - were playing tricks on her. More than once she cut her tongue on her teeth trying to stifle a scream of terror at nothing but her own cast-off. Her brain supplied strange noises so easily that she wasn’t sure what was an auditory hallucination and what could have been the last sound she heard before some asshole gutted her dead. 

 

Never, not in her whole life, had Quinn felt so helpless and naked as she did now. It would have been shameful how hard she was panting - how scared she felt - if she’d had much room for anything but all the potentials lurking in the shadows. 

 

Just please, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut and swallow a tang of bile - just let her get out of this unharmed and she’d never be this reckless again. Never this sloppy ever again.

 

Smoke infiltrated the reek surrounding her and the closer she stepped the more she smelt it. A crackle like fire reached her ears and suddenly her heart was pounding again; bouncing back and forth inside her ribs until she thought the stench of burning fat and boiling bile would send her under. There, in the middle of the processing floor was Nameless, alight in flames. He billowed smoke up to the high heavens, making dense storm clouds that rolled and waved before sliding out through the busted windows. The floor pulsated yellow light, exposing support beams and old debris not even the homeless had taken. Everything was either pitch black or doused in gold.

 

Against the crackling casting of flames, Quinn stepped forward and saw the outline of a hooded man with a can of gasoline resting against his thigh. 

 

Something like binoculars hung around his throat. No, night vision goggles, she realized, blinking. Now that she was staring at the man who’d breathed on her in the darkness, whose car was parked outside beside her own, she felt less victimized. If he tried anything, she’d at least see him before he did it.

 

Only once had she been in a position where surprise hadn’t won out first. Her fifth guy wasn’t as thick-headed as she’d hoped and he’d struggled, smashed her nose in with his forehead before she’d gotten a hook in his spine; paralyzing him.

 

Phantom pain ran up the bridge of her nose as Quinn blinked away the sting of smoke and stared coldly at the man across from her, nothing but a burning body between them.

 

Quinn scrutinized the gray smoke that coated the pronounced highlights of his body and face. This whole thing reeked of folly, but to hell with it. He had doused her victim in petrol and set him on fire for her. For whatever reason, this person had set the evidence on fire! The poor outline of her jacket was noticeable enough under the blackening corpse. 

 

She gave the sizzling flesh a good once over, feeling her stomach flutter in pleasure before looking back through the licking flames at her mystery man. The fire reflected off his teeth as he grinned, looking like something out of a biblical etching; demonic and malicious. He reminded her of that creep she’d seen in the grocery store a couple weeks ago. Could be the same guy, which only raised more questions. 

 

He chuckled - the sound bouncing off the steel walls and beams, rattling her skull like bone-chimes in the wind. Quinn watched him lift a finger to his lips before pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, waving it like a white flag before laying it on the ground under a fat rock. In a blink of the eye, he was gone, faded like a Cheshire cat into the darkness where the firelight didn’t dare touch. That grin of his lingered, not before her eyes but behind them.

 

Quinn stood there feeling like someone had rearranged her bowels and organs; feeling used without ever being touched. She watched the shadows surrounding the blaze with her knife in hand, waiting hours until Nameless was nothing but a charred husk before stepping carefully over the embers, picking up the note and leaving the factory. There wasn’t a single prickle of eyes on her the whole dark walk back.

 

She wasn’t surprised to find her car alone, nothing left of the other car but tire tracks in the dirt. 

 

Maybe this was how serial killers met one another? Not that… well, guess she was one of those after all. It felt odd labeling herself as such, but Quinn couldn’t spare the time to sit there in her car and think. The sun would be coming up in a couple hours and she was pent up, hungry and tired and mentally drained. She folded up the note and stuffed it in her pocket before cranking the engine and taking off.

 

Millwood Lake swallowed up another car; second one that year and it was a long walk back to Ogden, but she’d made the trip on foot before. The blood Nameless had spilled in the car was too much to clean up before morning and, well… she’d hated that car anyway. 

 

After bathing her face in tarnished water, stuffing her blood stained long sleeve and jeans into her backpack, Quinn spared the car a few minutes just to make sure it sunk all the way down this time. The backpack hung heavy over her naked shoulder, filled with everything she couldn’t stand to lose from the trunk - mainly her knives and all the fake papers from the registry and shit like that. She’d burn the title and anything else that might come back to bite her in the ass later, but the rest could sink only to be replaced by one or two trips into Tex. Not that she’d go anywhere tomorrow. 

 

Quinn decided her feet would be too sore and her mind too mushy to do much else but bathe, eat some delivery and watch tv. She needed to hide in her house and forget about how close she’d come to getting royally fucked.

 

Lick her wounds, as some would say. Tonight was, if nothing else, humbling. For awhile she was feeling invincible. No, she had to be cautious. This wasn’t a game someone played doing shit like she had tonight. Tomorrow she’d have to sit down and have a long talk with herself.

 

A few trucks honked at her as she dragged herself home in her boy shorts and tanktop, but none of them stopped to bother her. The little earbuds stuffed in her ears, blasting metal, muffled the catcalls she got from the drivers on their way to work. She half expected to get stopped by the cops, but one trooper just passed her without even slowing down - it was lucky, but the lack of concern left a bad taste in her mouth. 

 

She got home in a little over an hour but it might as well have taken all fucking morning for how she felt after finally stepping through her front door. 

 

Dixon barked, jumping on his back legs with his paws clawing at her hips and ass. Quinn booped his nose before crumbling to the floor, feeling her carpet leave rug burns in her shoulder as she slid into a lump on the floor; tired as fuck.

 

A warm, flat tongue bathed her face in kibble-smelling saliva, but she was too exhausted to do more than turn her face away, shoving her nose down into the carpet with a groan.

 

She could still smell the bromine, cooked asshole, and runoff as she lay there soaking up the bliss of inactivity. It was there she laid, falling asleep long enough to wake up to bright light streaming in through her windows. Dixon was sleeping against the small of her back, snoring - a protective heat she didn’t want to remove, though she did anyway.

 

It would take a hot shower, a plate of spaghetti and pesto sauce with a bottle of water before she was coherent enough to sift through her backpack, placing everything in a neat order on her dining room table - and it was only when she was digging the crap out of her jean pockets, ready to bleach the fuck out of her clothes, that her fingers crinkled down on the note…

 

Bleach assailed her nostrils as the washing machine filled up with hot steamy water. Somewhere in her house, Dixon barked and she started to sweat. Quinn stared at the soot-covered note, felt the night come crashing back and very slowly - imagining a fat poison-laden spider with a flame-touched grin hiding under the folds - opened the note.

  
  
  


**October 2, 2017**

 

“Listen, you stupid shit! You - you owe me big time and this, what I’m asking, doesn’t even come close to making us square.”

 

Lucas chewed on the end of the dixie straw in the corner of his mouth, watching his laptop with rapt attention. Quinn was pacing in her kitchen, in perfect line of sight of her inlaid webcam, completely unaware of Lucas and his view of her kicking her heels into the tile floor; snarling against her phone. Her shrill, angry voice not only ran through his speakers but also through the walls of her house. He could hear her shouting from his stolen ride, which made his gut turn in giddy joy. This girl of his really was somethin’. Even hotter when she was spitting vitriol at this dope of hers.

 

With a quick key command, Lucas tapped into her phone’s microphone, ran it through an external application and narrowed his eyes at the crackle of audio. The dude on the other end was silent as she shouted, but Jimmy-boy made the mistake of trying to get a word in as she inhaled between insults. 

 

Oh, yeah… Quinn was havin’ none of that. Lucas grinned, kicking his heels back against the passenger car door like he was ready to ride a fucking roller coaster. Never a dull moment with her. No sirreeee!

 

“Shut your fucking mouth!” she shouted, “I want overnight delivery and if you send me a little pea-shooter-”

 

“I won’t - I won’t, jesus Quinn… I’ll ship it off tonight but it’s gotta go through the right channels, ‘aight. Won’t be there until the end of the week. Just stop yelling at me, please.”

 

Pussy… the dampening of Jimmy-boy’s voice through the phone didn't lend the fucker any sympathy, either. The guy sounded like a dumb bitch more so than actual dumb bitches. Lucas would have been jealous of a man in Quinn’s life she hadn’t yet killed, but this asshole was still another mystery of hers. Who or what he was, Lucas didn’t know, but the more he talked the more Lucas wanted to see him strung up like a flayed calf… organs sluiced out in a bucket while his blood drained.

 

Quinn took a hard breath, holding her elbow as the phone squished against her cheek; standing right in the middle of the kitchen. The way she angled her arms made her tits push together in a high line that made Lucas’ lips feel chapped. He’d had a nasty little daydream the other day about sliding his dick between those tits until he spilled a load over her face. She’d had a long, black tongue in his dream - one that slid out to clean away all his slimy cum off her cheeks… it was damn weird but still got him as stiff as a week-old corpse.

 

It was hard to remember what got him turned on before Eveline played pinochle with his brain, but Lucas got the feeling it wasn’t too different than what got his dick hard now. Blood… gore - something brutal and morally wrong but always taken with a smile. He remembered this old porn clip he used to play on a loop with this one petite little redhead who spent all five solid minutes of the clip getting throat fucked so hard she puked, only to smile and say thanks at the end.

 

“You’re fuckin’ useless,” Quinn cursed, then in a softer voice, Lucas watched as she hugged herself and asked,  “You gotta make sure it’s easy to use, you know I’ve never shot one before.”

 

“I got uh... got me two Glock nineteens here. I’ll send you one of ‘em. A four-year-old could shoot someone with this,” he sounded pretty smug about that for some reason, but Lucas wasn’t worried about getting shot in the face. If Quinn wanted a gun after taking his little note then whatever… wasn’t exactly the reaction he was hoping for but he couldn’t blame a girl like her for getting more than a little spooked. She'd been at her game, alone, for so long, that Lucas shouldn't have expected any different. 

 

“And plenty of ammo,” Quinn added, demanding with a hard look at her laptop. 

 

For a second Lucas’ skin prickled. It wasn’t like she saw ‘im, but that look got his heart racing with excitement - it was the same feeling when he’d been tracing her footsteps in that ol’ factory last week. 

The way she’d stopped after hearing his groan at the green-lacquered sight of her through his night-vision goggles. She’d been too tasty to hold that noise back. Watching her while she thought she was alone - it was different than seeing her through her camera's. Lucas had been so close he could smell the sweat and blood caked on her - got a whiff of something like spices in a root cellar and that sweet tang he assumed was natural to chicks.

 

No one could smell as mouth watering as Quinn did though, ‘specially not that night and ‘specially not once all the crispy smoked meshed into her clothes. Lucas should have gotten closer before he’d left her his note. He’d never seen anything so perfect as the way she’d looked staring at him through the flames that were bubbling the fat on skewed Mr. Fuckface that night.

 

Lucas realized then, as she hung up her phone and proceeded to make herself lunch, that if he was gonna get fucked up by her he’d much rather it be by a blade. Bullets weren’t terrible but they didn’t have the same intimacy to ‘em… nor did Lucas’ favorite fantasy involve picking bullets out of his chest. He wanted to cum in her mouth with a knife sticking out of his neck, or some other equivalent. 

 

She was 30.c… not some regular cunt that liked to shoot people. Knives were her style, not guns.

 

He’d gotten her well and truly scared, though. Lucas wasn’t sure how much he liked the look on her. On one hand, hearing her reading his note over and over again with increasingly breathless slips of the tongue had given him a major boner, but seeing her sit at her dining room table with his note held in her hands and something like a tremble on her mouth wasn’t gratifying. Lucas wanted her spitting anger and curses - wanted her slicing into his belly with a shark-like grin. 

 

Maybe it was time to properly introduce himself. He could show up with a new jacket to replace the one he burned and some of those cherry pies he saw her eying hungrily at the grocer that one day. Some ice cream and a bottle or rum fer her too. 

 

Yeah, Lucas realized some part of it was a bit lovesick, but shit - who was he foolin’? He was in too deep by now to start feelin’ all ashamed of himself. If he had his way, he’d have Quinn taking him for a ride, fucking him and killin’ him in the morning only to turn around and hack some dumbass off the streets; throw ‘em in a pit of Lucas’ design and watch the game unfold. He pictured cut marks in bellies with flies laying eggs inside weeping flesh. Lucas closed his eyes and imagined the screams and the begging, watching shitheads claw at their cages and Quinn sawing into throats with ever increasing laughter.

 

She’d be enough to rival him, stab for stab and laugh for laugh. 

 

And now… now his dick was hard again.

 

“Well, Quinn,” he growled; panting at the image of her laying his note down on her dining room table, staring off into the distance with an open mouth frown.

 

“Whata’ya say, baby? Hmm? Ya ready to get this party started? ‘Cause ah sure as shit am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all that have been reading, commenting and leaving kudos. It means a lot. If you have the time, please let me know what you thought! - and thanks to Zoadgo for her Beta skills and Darth Fucamus for her helpful insights. Much appreciation. <3 More on the way.


	4. Chapter 4

**October 4, 2017**

 

If his Mama were still around, she would have told ‘im he was being way too eager. Girls didn't like it when you hovered around like ah damn fly on shit - well, that was more the old man talking in his ear than anythin’. 

 

Lucas could still hear his Mama though, chiding him as if he'd ever had a girl even look at him twice before throwing her fuckin’ nose up in the air. 

 

Best he'd ever gotten was a date with what's her face that ended up asking him out for shits and gigs back in the eighth grade. Lucas would still feel ashamed for being so fucking eager to say yes back then if he hadn't already strung the dumb bitch up while he'd been one of Evie’s minions. 

 

Inside his head, somewhere gummy where Eveline’s stain still lingered, he could hear the stupid cow’s screams while the saw blades cut her in half. She'd been a real gusher - so much blood spraying the walls red. Almost looked like a professional paint job. 

 

Lucas felt that wormy power rolling in his chest. 

 

It had been a long while since he'd done something fun like that. It wasn't even like there was any shortage of dumb fucks around this part of the country. He could snatch himself up someone none the wiser if he were careful. 

 

Maybe he'd pluck himself up some trashy bitch at a bar - some place Quinn would go to get a pig for slaughter. Places like that had to have equally disgusting chicks, right? The question then was what he could do with her with just the car and an old factory out east? Wasn't no sport in just killing ‘em. 

 

Least not for him anyway. Quinn had a game she played, just with herself instead of traps and gadgets like he did. 

 

There was this one girl back at the last gas station outside of Tex, snarling behind the register like she could smell something rotten on her upper lip. She kinda looked like this one bitch who used to wave her tits in his face back in high school - used to laugh at the boner he got too.

 

She'd be perfect, he thought, wondering what his dear ol’ Mama would think. Could be both versions of his Mama would jus’ be happy he was picking up girls. All them chicks he'd stolen from the ol’ man, jus’ so he could pin old high school yearbook photos on their faces and gore ‘em to death… now that was fun.  

 

Even then his Mama would hush him with that fat worm of a tongue - tell him to watch where he stuck his dick, ‘cause who knew where them girls had been before Lucas got ahold of ‘em. 

 

At least someone had thought he was gettin’ some pussy. Leave it to his dear Ma to think her crazy-headed son could catch some chick’s eye. 

 

Pretty cheap…

 

Lucas felt a jumpy violence sink into his fingertips as he stood stock still in the liquor store with his hood up; the sleeves trapped between his thumb and forefinger, hiding the thick blue veins that laid around his knobby wrists and knuckles. Had to do something about his paleness one of these days, he thought, reading the labels of rum bottles. None of the names jumped out at him… 

 

Quinn hadn't even bought an actual bottle of this shit - jus’ mentioned it offhand when she looked stressed out or pissed. Always said she needed a rum an’ coke and a fuckin’ shower at the end of the day, but only ever took a shower. If his girl wanted some rum, Lucas would get her all the fucking rum. 

 

Never having been a booze hound like the ol’ man, Lucas wasn't sure what to get… so he filled up a shopping cart with each different brand and a two-liter of Coke. 

 

The fat-faced zombie behind the counter didn't spare him a single glance. Dumbass didn't even ask for an I.D. jus’ mumbled the total with a phlegmy sniffle and stared at the counter. 

 

Lucas angled his head down, clicking his tongue to get a tick outta him, but the dude barely blinked. 

 

“Ya got shit for brains, buddy? Ain't no one ever teach you tah smile?!”

 

Liquor Store Clerk just blinked before sliding his eyes back to the price readout. Lucas stare at him over the tower of paper bags, noticing the security monitors against the back wall, showing all angles of the store, including himself and Liquor Store Clerk. No one else but the two of ‘em.

 

“Three-sixty-one and umm… fourteen cents, please.”

 

This guy! Fucking riot. 

 

How anyone thought Lucas was a crazed lunatic when the world was chock full of guys like this, he’d never understand. Pretentious pricks… all of ‘em. If anything, he was the sane one compared to these empty-headed morons. Liquor Store Clerk could end up in a wood chipper and probably be too dumb to scream. 

 

Against his better judgment, Lucas laid down four hundred bucks, took his change, and left the guy alive; chuggin’ along with his four brain cells still intact.

 

Maybe Lucas would come back after his date night was finished, take Liquor Store Clerk somewhere lonely and seal ‘im up in the VW with all the windows and seams made airtight. Hell, if tonight went well maybe he'd bring Quinn along so they could watch the retard suffocate together. 

 

The rum bottles rattled as he drove down the empty roads towards Ogden. 

 

On the passenger seat, his laptop was busy spying on Quinn as she stared in boredom at her phone. She was looking at weather feeds, fucking off as screams echoed from her TV set. Lucas could see the light patterns skipping along her face; flashing in her eyes.

 

Horror movie night, or some real messed up shit he wasn't aware of yet. 

 

“Heh, someone's started without me.” He grinned, pushing down on the gas, running a red light for the fuck of it, “No matter, though. I’m’ah comin’, Quinn… jusssss you wait!”

 

He felt that fucked up flutter fill his stomach; felt his veins pulse along the cords of his knuckles and neck. Lucas tried to pull his teeth back, stop from grinding them down to nubs but he was too eager to get inside her little house - inside her little mouth and cunt and soul and bury himself so deep she'd never wash him off. 

 

Lucas imagined her gleefully slicing him from groin to throat, riding him as blood sprayed up along naked, writhing flesh; tits bouncing. The visual excited him enough he nearly ran right into a truck, blazing down the dark roads. Wouldn't do to show up at her place with a squishy skull and some missing limbs. 

 

No-no-nooo… had to be careful. He had to look his best when she opened her door and saw his face. Would she recognize him from that night in the factory with shithead burning between ‘em? 

 

Yeah, she'd remember him. Not like she was dumb as the rest of the world. Quinn was a step above the rest. She was on his level and… and! - Shit! Lucas needed to park a few houses down a fuck his fist before showing up. His cock was so fucking hard he could brain someone with it. 

 

Didn't take long, either. A dozen quick, long strokes and a meaty squeeze and Lucas was growling into the steering wheel, blowing a load down beside the gas pedal. Sweat ran down the tip of his nose, catching above his upper lip. Lucas licked it away, tasting something mildly human again: salt, something sour too. He watched the porch light on Quinn's house buzz with insects as he gulped down breaths, panting as if he'd been outrunning Ethan again. 

 

“... shit fuck,” he wheezed, rolling his rough palm across the bulbous head of his deflating cock, shuddering at the dregs of pleasure. Might need to do it again before seeing her. 

 

Lucas waited all of five minutes before turning off the car, settling back in the driver's seat and squeezing another bone-shaking orgasm outta himself. 

 

By the time he was clear headed, balls empty, he had to pull the sweaty undershirt off his back and shrug on a fresh one from one of the old Walmart bags he'd gotten a few weeks ago. The hoodie smelt alright, so he shrugged it on, zipped up and stepped outta the VW. 

 

He'd come back for the booze when he was sure she wouldn't run. Wouldn't be great to show up with an arm full of glass bottles only to have tah drop ‘em on a chase.

 

‘Alcohol abuse’, the ol’ man had said when Lucas dropped a beer bottle on the kitchen floor that one time when he was thirteen. ‘Abuse my ass’, he remembered saying. Yeah, he got a nice little whack on the back of the head for that too.

 

The fresh shirt was already damp with nervous sweat by the time Lucas was standing at the end of her porch stairs. 

 

He'd paced a few times, running an erratic batch of fingers through the messy threads on his scalp. Needed to cut it, he thought. It had gotten too long after leaving home, and he'd been too preoccupied with Miss Quinn to worry about keeping it cut. Actually, he'd let himself get real nasty if he thought out it. The scuff on his chin never grew fast, but it had grown down his jaw and the front of his throat more than it should have. 

 

When was the last time he'd brushed his fucking teeth?! 

 

Lucas stood there with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and imagined soft, sweet smelling Quinn recoiling at the fetid sight of him. He frowned, working his tongue between his teeth until it was open and bloody. The bitter twist of his blood on his palate centered him long enough that this almost seemed like a good idea after all. 

 

Tickles across his brain, like a spider crawling on the walls of his skull, made him grin. That warm anticipation came back tenfold, and with a ragged smirk, Lucas galloped up her stairs and pounded on her front door until he could hear her yelling.

 

“Hey! Calm your tits, asshole. I'm coming!”

 

There was a rush of breath behind the door. Lucas twisted his lips into a wide grin, staring into the little disk of glass on her door - the little eyehole where she sure as fuck had seen him. So, she recognized him after all. He'd been worried she might’av been too freaked out to remember him as more than a slender figure beyond the human fire pit. 

 

As if her lips were right along the wood, she asked, “What do you want?”

 

Ooh, man… she sounded good enough to tongue and suck down whole - so scared but determined and firm. Lucas licked his lower lip, swallowed down the taste of old blood and rested his palm on her door, arching a brow up into the eyehole. 

 

“Ah’ was just in the neighborhood ya know,” he paused, hissing a giggle, “An’ I umm… heh’ just figured I'd pop on by and introduce myself. And before you start off on some ten-question shit… you keep me out here an’ baby, I'll find my own way inside.”

 

She inhaled; raw and laced in something that got his well-used cock to twitch to life again. Really had to figure out how to keep that dick of his under control, it was becoming the bane of his existence. A real ‘hard’ problem to handle. 

 

There was a great deal of thinking happenin’ behind the door that Lucas was about to head back to the car and find the hammer, but a soft click snapped his attention back to front and center. Another lock unlatched - the deadbolt reversing. The door cracked, leaking cold air and soft, warm light as she removed the chain from the frame. 

 

Lucas could smell her. Mouth wateringly good. 

 

“I've got a gun,” she told him, sounding malicious but Lucas knew better. She didn't have one, not yet anyhow but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous with just a kitchen knife. He was aware of what happened to dudes that thought she was a pushover jus’ cause she was short and hot as fuck. Lucas wouldn't let himself get too carried away until the timing was just right. 

 

As the door opened, Lucas finally got to see her in the flesh, without the pretense of looking like he was doing something else - like he wasn't staring at every move she made. And she looked amazing tonight. Lucas hadn't gotten a great look at her all day, except for her face and some quick angles from her phone. 

 

Her bare legs looked smooth, sprinkled with a few freckles and one large bruise above the left knee. Must've gotten that nasty jab from the asshole Lucas had burnt last week for her. He could visualize her, all bare teeth, wrestling with that prick in her shitty car, elbows, and knees flying before getting a good angle and wedging her blade home.

 

Quinn gave him a rundown; eyes taking over the whole of him, hard enough he felt his shoulder twitch under the scrutiny. She'd learn to love him even if he wasn't all that well put together tonight. They were too much alike - Quinn had to like him… and once she realized she could kill him as much as she wanted, over and over again… yeah, Lucas would have her just as addicted to him as he was to her. 

 

Fuck it, he thought, grinning as he shoved an elbow into the door frame - he wanted her now. 

 

With a faint grunt of laughter, Lucas hung his head down into his shoulders, staring down at her pinched face and mean eyes. Her hair was up in a messy bun, some strands spilling around red cheeks. Fuckin’ hell… she was hot shit. Even if he weren't immortal, he'd be down for getting a knife in his neck just to feel those rosy cheeks hollowing around his cock. 

 

She gawked, glaring at him as he smirked. 

 

At this angle, he could see down the wide collar of her Metallica shirt - the barest glimpse of creamy tit and fragile-looking collar bone. 

 

If Lucas wanted he could snap her in half. He could pull at her throat and tear her head from her shoulders… could shove his hand through her navel and rip out her heart. He imagined breaking her into wicked, wet pieces, sewing her back together and making himself a real horror-style bride, but she was perfect as she was. Down to every last strand of hair. 

 

Perfect.

 

As Lucas took her in, noting how her throat tensed, he arched a brow and licked his teeth like he'd seen wild dogs do. 

 

Quinn’s lips parted as she opened her front door up nice an’ wide, “So, you're in now... you ready for my ten questions or are we gonna have a bigger problem?”

 

“Man, you got no idea how long ah’v been waitin’ fer this moment.”

 

She didn't look surprised, just suspicious, as she stepped back, letting him inside her personal space, “... how long? I mean, how long have you been following me?”

 

“Ahhhh’not long. You and me really ought to have a little convo about yur firewall protection. Could have way worse than me show up at your doorstep.” Lucas gave her a deep look under the shadows of his hood and grinned, “But hey! - don’ you worry. You're lucky it's me that caught ya first. My Mama always said I could never hurt ah’ fly.”

 

Quinn gave him a look of disbelief before shutting her door, hesitating at the locks until he saw her leave them open. Lucas figured she was planning for a possible get away if he ended up doing what she figured he was here to do. Not like he didn't wanna do some foolin’ around, but it was too early for that kinda fun. Tonight was about meeting face to face and… maybe getting a fresh eyeful for ‘imself. 

 

Jee-damn did she look good tonight. Lucas swallowed a wad of spit under his tongue; gulping down like a noisy lech but the soft drum of metal choruses from her bedroom drowned it out. 

 

“And why'd you burn that dumb fuck Tuesday night?”

 

“Meh, I hadn't burnt anyone in awhile,” he told her. Honest, enough.

 

In truth, Lucas wanted to put on a show for her. Showmanship was lacking now that he didn't have a party room and the space and seclusion for his games. Getting to douse her victim and set the prick on fire while she watched had scratched an itch. 

 

“So… you are…”

 

“Are what, now?” Lucas grinned so wide he could feel his lower lip softly split. 

 

“A serial killer,” she admitted, looking like the words tasted dirty to her. Rather base term for what they were, he had to admit. A label coined by dumb fucks in office chairs with their big glasses peering down their noses at everyone that didn't fit their moral baseline. Fuck ‘em, Lucas thought, giving Quinn a hard look as some sweat broke out on her temple. 

 

With a lick over his split lip, Lucas told her as sincerely as he could manage, “Think about it as if you're a garbage man or,” he giggled, “...woman, in yur case, and them fuckers are sticky cans an’ wrappers an’ you and me, we throw ‘em out.”

 

Quinn stared at him with an expression Lucas hadn't seen before. Couldn't categorize it, but he liked it. She blinked, grazed her lower lip with a wet, pink tongue and swallowed, “... you're saying we're the same?”

 

“Ooh, baby, we’re better than that.”

  
  
  
  


**The day…**

 

The text went through way more readily than it should have, given how long it took her to compose the damn thing. She'd been sitting at her dining room table like a teenager studying for an exam, running through a hundred ways to say the exact same fucking thing. 

 

Quinn looked at the text message as it went from light blue to solid: sent. 

 

‘I'm ready to talk, Lucas. Come by around six this evening if you're not busy. I'll make you dinner, and we can hash some things out. Q.’

 

His response was immediate and straightforward and made her feel oddly drained. 

 

‘I'll be there.’

 

With an exhale, Quinn laid her phone on the table and took a solid minute of mindful breathing to get her heart rhythm back to normal. She turned back to her kitchen, staring darkly at the bottles of rum Lucas had piled on her countertop and felt a cold shiver of desperation run down her spine. Never in her life had she felt so detached from reality as when he had been bringing in those paper bags, rattling with liquor - a huge smile on his face like he'd been some martyr. 

 

Quinn rubbed her eyes until she saw spots.

 

Dixon was snoring in his dog bed by the food bowl; oblivious to her terror. Same kind of oblivious he'd been when Lucas had been over the night before. Sure, she'd run in front of a burning semi for that damn hound, but he was a worthless guard dog...

 

In the middle of considering a call to the shelter to pick up another rescue, adding another dog to the family, her phone vibrated. Her suspicions were confirmed when she tipped it over to find a text from Lucas and his ‘Unknown’ number. 

 

‘Should I bring more coke?’

 

Jesus fuck, Quinn blew out a breath, ran her nails down her scalp and damn near wrung her hair outta her head. Instead of balding herself, she sent him a quick text, ‘Got some from last night still’ and shoved her chair back, abandoning her phone on the table in pathetic retaliation. 

Two hot showers, a few over-the-counter pain relievers and a long talk with herself in the mirror later, Quinn was opening the door for the guy who had turned her whole world on its head - the man that could ruin everything.

 

Quinn listened as her mind told her that this… this was how she was going to die - it told her in grave detail that letting this fucker back into her house had been the dumbest thing she’d ever done. All she could think of - the only thing that had crossed her mind was getting him wilted on the sofa so she could shove a knife up his jaw and into his brain; a common solution to an uncommon problem. 

 

Quinn stood with her hands folded over her stomach as Lucas dropped down to his knees. Dixon loved him...

 

“Hoo-boy, Q’tee baby, ah’ think yur dog likes me.”

 

She forced a smile - a dreadful one that might have been hilarious had she not been imagining how best to get Lucas’ cock out without actually touching him. Not that touching him was the problem, she realized. 

 

There was something about him that scared her. Unlike any other man except Number One, she'd never been more than slightly spooked by the potential violence of men. But Lucas, he frightened her, and she hated it and yet that same fear reminded her off all those fresh, destructive feelings, making the emotions turn back around to arousal. Quinn looked at him and felt a raw sense of terror that reminded her of how easy it was to kill someone.  

 

He didn’t really seem all there, either, paying more attention to Dixon as the dog betrayed her. Her faithful furry friend snuffled Lucas’ large palms and licked a blue-veined wrist with glee. 

 

Even after their brief exchange the other day, Quinn didn't know what it was he wanted from her. His answers had been wrapped around a sloppy tongue, laced with some kind of energy she'd only ever seen in meth heads. Crazy fucker. 

 

He gave her a few answers in the beginning, but after that, he answered every question for a question. If anything she was even more confused and thus vulnerable. With all her other numbers, she'd known what they wanted and how to exploit it. With this one… she wasn't so sure of herself. 

 

Only one thing was sure. Lucas had to die. He was a killer, and as much as he assured her they were the same, they weren't. They couldn't be. Quinn wouldn’t let herself be charmed by his intense assurance of the fact. She wasn’t a serial killer…

 

But she was...

 

She wasn’t like him, though. He ‘murdered’ people - good people maybe. No reason behind it either. The guy got off on killing anyone that didn't meet his standards, and he had more of those than sense it seemed. 

 

Last night Quinn could only stand there, hold her tongue and keep herself controlled as he recanted schematics for traps and some sort of fucked up card game he'd invented. The worst part of his constant explaining was the tender feeling of pleasure it brought to her gut. The recanting of violence had turned her on; got her wet and sloppy between her legs and it killed a part of her. Knowing that she derived pleasure from the torture and murder of anyone, not just the dregs of society, brought her situation into a new light. 

 

Well, maybe they were the same, just as he said. Perhaps Quinn had been lying to herself all this time. They both killed for pleasure. Lucas, this guy could have just as easily had the same affliction she did but without having to fuck himself to get there, and if he did, then he didn't choose to take his need out on the undesirables of society.

 

She’d read enough crap on the innards of the deep web to know how some people could cum from some of the sickest and weirdest shit. Not that she judged… not unless it went against her own skewed morals.

 

This one anonymous poster claimed he could ejaculate from the thrill of stalking individuals. Cumming while he watched his chosen victims without any physical stimulus - so that being said, killing and coming didn’t seem so farfetched. Quinn herself got aroused by killing, sometimes so wet that she might have been able to climax from it alone… maybe. 

 

“Who's ah good boy?!” Lucas growled, rubbing Dixon’s belly with a gleeful smile. Quinn toed the floor, nervous that her hound's soft stomach was under this guys hands.

 

Lucas - the asshole - had taken the joy out of the last kill, number Eleven. She'd been on edge; wanting to fuck herself at the peak of the moment, but that had passed, and she couldn’t muster the energy to do it once she got home either. The weak orgasm she gave herself that morning in the shower was so pointless it nearly made her sick. 

 

She felt itchy and sweaty; needed to feel that hush of pleasure while the stench of blood swam up against her nose. Lucas… she almost moaned his name as her stomach flipped with excitement. 

 

He was going to be number Twelve.

 

If this guy could blow a load just from killing, well… she was almost jealous. Thinking more about it - the whole idea seemed doubtful. There had to be some type of physical stimulation, right? At least for her, there had to be, though granted, she didn’t need much when it was built up so well. 

 

This Lucas guy was too busy crouching down, flopping Dixon’s ears back and forth like a fucking kid to pay attention to her as she leaned back against the kitchen counter; knees suddenly weak. She’d thought about letting this whole situation drag out a little longer, but all her running thoughts of gore… or killing and fucking and sucking fat cock had gotten her more undone than she could stand. It wasn’t often she felt like someone else was driving… but hands, not her own, were holding her nerves, twirling the clockwork in her skull.

 

Carefully, she turned to grab a glass from the open cabinetry while slipping a dull paring knife off the counter, tucking it in her back pocket. The slyness wasn’t necessary, Lucas wasn’t paying her much attention. 

 

She should have had a blade on her earlier, but it was only five twenty, and the asshole had shown up early. 

 

“Are you thirsty?” she asked, eyeing the maniac wiping dog spit off on his pants. He wore a loose grin like that of a crocodile. With his hood down he looked, if possible, even more, unhinged than before. Perhaps because he looked more human, but the eyes and the smile were definitely… not. He was something else, less predictable than all that.

 

“Naw, you ain’t got anything I’d want in there.”

 

Quinn felt a nagging sensation in the back of her mind but ignored it as she filled up the glass with tap water, trying to appear calm and collected as he peered around her home, walking further into her kitchen, filling the air with some musky smell and an ass-load of tension.

 

If she had to suck his dick… it wouldn't be terrible. Certainly not the worst thing she'd ever done. If she had to fuck him, it’d be alright. If she had to pretend she liked it… that wouldn’t be hard, either. 

 

Sure, he was skinny and pale and looked like he hadn’t eaten much in the past year or so, but everything was there that she usually went for. 

 

After number One, she’d forgotten about guys, at least not those that weren't meant for a darker purpose. 

 

Back when she saw a man for something other than a corpse, she liked them tall and gangly… and he had a dangerous line to everything he did that was attractive. A bad boy with a wild streak. She used to dig that before everything changed. If she fucked him, Quinn decided she’d enjoy it.

 

She could feel his eyes on her. He needed to die, she thought; knew and accepted. 

 

Quinn wasn’t sure if he’d done anything more terrible in his life than killing to deserve it, but she wasn’t ready to go to jail or die herself. That look he’d given her last night said he wanted to do something more to her than meet her. Lucas gave her the same look she’d gotten from lions at the Zoo. Back then she had bars between her and messy death. Right now there was a tile floor between them and nothing else. 

 

Quinn turned around and caught him staring with that same look, but it was different; directed down at where her ass had been bent over the sink. Yeah, this time… this time she knew that look. 

 

He was staring with that unabashed look of hunger, except the difference between now and last night was that his eyes were trailing down to the exposed skin of her navel where her half shirt rested under her ribs. 

 

She didn’t make a move despite the look, though. Lucas' mannerisms were too unique - too uncharted to determine with one hundred percent accuracy if he wanted to feast on her guts or unzip her shorts and lick her clean but then… then he peeled his eyes off her, ran them into her own gaze and she knew the difference. 

 

He wanted her and Quinn could work with that. 

 

Thinking about hooking a knife into his skull had gotten her wet, and the rest of her addled thoughts had drenched her enough to fuck a beer bottle, figuratively speaking. Quinn imagined he'd melt once she shoved his hand down past her underwear. Let him feel how drenched she was and see how weak he became - weak enough to murder and hack apart. 

 

They were all weak. 

 

God, she wanted to fuck him hard enough to make the ache last longer than it took for him to decompose. Quinn imagined ticking away the weeks and months, still feeling bruised from the slap of his stupid cock inside her as his corpse sunk, bloated and withered.

 

Quinn gave him a quick, hard look and imagined those muted eyes of his spread open wide in bliss and pain as she slipped wetly in his lap; fucking him sweetly while his throat leaked crimson on her bedspread. 

 

For some reason, she wanted to do it in her bedroom… on her mattress. Yesss… with the springs squeaking as she slapped down in his lap while he bled out. Quinn wanted to see the deep blood stain whenever she changed her sheets, she wanted to run her fingers over her clit as she fucked herself on it.

 

A trickle of moisture slid out of her, staining her underwear further. 

 

“So,” Quinn panted, folding an arm under her breasts in a show of bracing her elbow, tipping the glass against her lips. She paid particular attention to the way his eyelids twitched open, and those bleached eyes slipped along her chest. Yeah, that was a look she could work with. This had been a long time coming, and it was his own fault for stealing her climax from the last shithead. 

 

Lucas had some making up to do.

 

“So.” He mimicked, leveling her with an unreadable expression.

 

With a gulp of tangy water, she smiled and set down her glass, holding the countertop behind her. Quinn angled her hips just so, watching Lucas’ eyes touch her curves like any other man would, but he didn’t say a word or make a move. He didn't take action, and though that gave her pause, it didn't stop her from reaching a hand down the front of her shorts. 

 

His pupils dilated as she touched her warm, wet flesh.

 

“You know, Lucasss… I spent all night thinking about those guys you put through the ringer back home.” 

 

Her eyelids fluttered just in time to see the way his neck sunk into his shoulders. Between his legs, Quinn could see the outline of a soon to be erection pressing underneath his zipper. 

 

A tiny, blotted voice tried to warn her, but her heart was pounding in her cunt already, and the flesh wanted what it wanted. Quinn couldn’t stand the thought of holding her wrists back while he looked at her like this. Lucas’ lips parted; wide eyes lowered into nasty little slits, rimmed in thick sleepless purple. 

 

“This,” she shivered, pressing down on her clit until a sharp river of pleasure rushed down her thighs, “it’s what you wanted right? Come on, we can plan a murder spree once you're done fucking this nasty cunt for me. Hmmm…?”

 

Heartbeat in her cunt - jean shorts moist, and she could smell the soft musk of sex already. So much like violence that Quinn almost let herself get too carried away. A few more hard swipes of her middle finger and she’d have cum without him. 

 

Usually, the dirty talk was for whatever asshole she was about to slice, but the vitriol just flowed like honey, “What do you say, Lucas? You wanna see cum… your cum dripping out of my cunt? Wanna beat it raw and watch me scream, don’t you?”

 

It was quiet, but she heard it, a breathless, “Yes…” as his eyes traced her wrist as it rolled above the hem of her jeans. 

 

Quinn jerked her hand out of her shorts, leaving a trail of shiny wetness along her stomach as she stepped quickly towards him. He was panting and sweating and hot to the touch when she pulled at his wrist, making sure to slip her wet fingers through his own fat digits. Lucas came after her with hot breath wafting down her neck, his hips bumping against her ass all the way down to her bedroom where she kicked her door open with an excited groan. 

 

She was too hopped up on adrenaline to feel his fingers toying with her back pocket, running over the handle of the little knife she had tucked away - her brain was too fueled by fucking and the promise of unstaunched blood flow to remember it right now.  

 

She jerked him around, felt his rare strength beneath his hoodie and tore the zipper down with a snarl. 

 

“I’ll fuck that tight little snatch, jusss’ like you want but...hhhhhaaa,” he dropped into a muffled moan as she cupped his stiff cock over the slack of his pants - the thick, steel-bar of flesh made her knees bend, touching the floor. For the first time in a long time, she got down on her knees to suck cock because she wanted to, not because she had to.

 

“Ooh! Shit, ya read minds too?! Ha, Quinnnn’nn… sweet baby,” he babbled on and on while she unbuckled his belt, not even bothering with the button and zipper, just yanked his pants down to his knees, tugged the boxers down just enough for that fat, pale… twitching cock to spring free. It was hot on her tongue and drenched her taste buds in salt and sweat, and the burst of precum on the back of her tongue as she swallowed him halfway down made her shiver. 

 

His fingers folded in her hair, not yanking… but petting - it only threw her off for a second before she worked her throat and forced her lips down until her nose bumped his belly. The length made her gag, but her heart was hammering so hard it didn’t matter. Everything was just a run through of the same. Quinn pulled back, slurped up trails of stringy spit and precum and nipped the swollen head of his dick before taking him to the back of her throat once again. 

 

“...shit,” he breathed above her, “shit...shit, fuuuu’uck!” 

 

This time his fingers curled, tore into her scalp and kept her head still while his hips bucked. 

 

Under her hands, his thighs jumped like someone had him hooked up to a car battery. Quinn swallowed around the head of his cock, breathed sharply through her nose as he pulled back and opened her throat as he thrust forward. She blinked away tears as she gagged again, looking upwards. His eyes were squeezed shut, nose wrinkled and teeth bared in a nasty snarl. 

 

She closed her jaw, letting him feel the taste of her teeth on his dick and marveled at the arch of his brows - the loose smile he bore. 

 

The spill of cum down her throat wasn’t as shocking as it might have been had her fingers not felt the sudden hard line of his legs; bracing himself just before he came. Quinn gulped, tasted a thick string of cum as he stumbled back, falling ass first on her mattress with a drugged expression.

 

“Bummer,” she breathed, licking up the dregs of his load with a bitter smile. Fucking him was her plan, but there was always her own fingers, and she knew herself better than this asshole did. 

 

Lucas grinned - a little line of drool making his lower lip look puffy, “Jus’ give me a minute and I’ll give you some real dick, Q-tee,” he told her, but she’d heard similar from guys younger than him. All talk. 

 

He fell back on the bed, bouncing with a puff of breath. When she climbed up into his lap, he was the same as the rest of them. They never saw it coming. Such a sweet little surprise when they felt the knick of steel and the hot rush of blood. 

 

Quinn sighed, “Don’t worry about all that…” 

 

Lucas just watched her under heavy lids while she dragged her crotch along his thigh, pressing down just under his soft dick and kissed his moist lower lip. She’d miss that cock of his for a while after tonight. Even his cum tasted good; like some debased, salt-heavy sauce that made her smack her lips clean. But this was the best part - this bit coming up.

 

He didn’t look surprised when she jabbed the paring knife into the side of his neck, spraying the sheets with hot red. Lucas gurgled and… grinned. 

 

Quinn rolled her hips down into his thigh, churning down into the tense line until her clit felt like it was going to pop with bliss. All that bleeding had gotten his dick hard again, and though he was gripping her bed sheets and his eyes were wide, and his grin was wrong, she fucked his thigh through her jeans and wrapped her palms around his neck; squeezing as she brought herself to a beautiful, sharp climax. The pleasure encased her body, spreading further from her cunt all the way through around her cheeks and shoulders… up her throat and down her calves. Bliss pounded in her heart and squeezed her lungs as she squeezed more blood out of him and rode his twitching thigh until the ebb came and his eyes were gray.

 

“... fuck,” she cursed, turned her hips down to apply enough sweet pressure to keep the feeling pinned a little longer while warm sticky blood beat in spurts out of his neck. The stench of blood, his warm dying body, and her lulling orgasm made her weak. 

 

Lucas hiccuped and went still.

 

“I’m,” she inhaled, collapsing with her own death against him, “... gonna miss you.”

 

“Well, maybe” she mused, smiling at the soundless chest underneath her; marveling in the wake of such an incredible fucking moment. Every muscle in her body was useless; jelly under the skin. Lucas' death boner was still pressed underneath her. A darker part of her thought about making use of it, but it wasn’t the thought of fucking a dead man that gave her pause, more because she was already so relaxed and satisfied. The sticky, cooling pool of blood felt like magic as she skimmed the surface of it - too much blood for the mattress to absorbed quick enough. 

 

Quinn heard the sudden, soft beat of a heart, but didn’t have enough time to realize what it meant until she was encased in tight, hard arms. She did scream, though it was cut short as the world spun around her; her back saturating in the pool of blood as wild eyes looked down on her. Lucas’ teeth were parted, exposed and she was too brain-dead to realize what was happening before he had a hand wrapped around her throat and her arms pinned underneath her. 

 

Air - suddenly she realized her body needed it, more than she’d ever known before. Without it, she was going to die.

 

How the fuck!? 

 

Quinn felt sweat leak out of her pores as a very dead-looking Lucas laid his hips over her own, shoving her into her soaked bed with a blood splattered grin, “Me an’ you… we’re perfect fer each other. Ya get me now?!”

 

Quinn moaned, trying to draw breath through his grip, unable to process what was happening without air. Lucas squeezed tighter, held her there as her head felt like it was about to explode and kissed her. Blood leaked between her parted lips, coating her tongue in sharpness. With his lips still on her own, his grip let up, and she gasped; tasting his breath. 

 

He watched her steadily as she caught her breath, arching around his shadow like it was smothering her, but he was…

 

“You’re dead,” she hissed; throat raw.

 

“Naw, not dead… just punctured a bit. You really gotta up yur game if you wanna see that, babydoll. Spoiler alert, it’ll require more than you got access to,” he told her, sounding only slightly out of breath, and most of it looked due to the blowjob she’d given him and not the hole in the side of his neck… 

 

“No,” Quinn mumbled, “no, no… no, this isn’t real. You’ve- I passed out, and I’m dreaming. Wake up, come on you stupid bitch! Wake up’wake… up…”

 

“You know you ain’t stupid… heh, maybe a bit of a bitch, but we all got our little setbacks. Good thing I like yurs.”

 

Lucas kissed her again, and Quinn latched her teeth into his lower lip, tore flesh, tasted only a small leak of blood and started to tear up. He grumbled, tonguing the break down the middle of his lip like it was a minor split lip and giggled. He wasn’t bleeding… no, why would he be? All his blood was staining the mattress and herself. It was plastering her shirt to her back, soaking through the dense fabric of her jean shorts.

 

“Imma fucking gift, Quinn.”

 

She blinked, letting the situation sink in. Lucas was alive. Empty of blood except for whatever refused to leave his hard cock and… talking to her. Like a fucking zombie or some shit.

 

“You wanna fuck a corpse, you can fuck mine,” he grinned. “Ooo… or maybe one day you feel like performing some backwood surgery while you got hard dick in ya? I can help with that. Could probably eat that pussy of yurs with a knife in mah skull too.”

 

While his dick pulsed against her she watched his lower lip started fusing like a video ran in reverse, “We can find out what ah can handle. It’s all up to yewwww!”

 

“How much you can handle?! - fuck… fuck! This is - this is all sorts of weird,” she mumbled; head spinning.

 

Quinn, in either a clear state of mind or the most fucked up it had ever been in, looked him over, relaxed with a grin and opened her thighs around his hips, feeling him sink deeper into her. He made a deeply satisfied sound in his throat. The meaty stab wound was already pinched closed; healed even though the blood remained. 

 

Sensing something in her, Lucas let her slip her arms out from under her back, feeling her fingers peel apart as she stroked away the crusty blood from his throat. 

 

“How’s this possible?” she asked, imagining primal evenings fueled by the quest for release, showering in blood as she fucked this strange man until he died… over and over again. Quinn thumbed the puffy scar that was already smoothing out against the artery in his neck. Lucas was… perfect.

 

“I’d rather save that story for our after-fuck convo. Might take ah bit but I’d say you’ll get another few pints outta me by the time yur ready to come. I’ll make sure it looks convincing fer ya.”

 

“Don’t say that,” she frowned, poking his healed lower lip, “it’s better if I think you’re actually dying.”

 

“Ain’t gotta tell me twice,” he chuckled, licking her thumb as he worked the front of her shorts open. 

 

Furious in getting Quinn out of her clothes, they both slipped a few times in the slimy mess; a tangle of legs and arms until she was kicking off the tight, wet denim and Lucas was back against the mattress. He was naked from the waist down; shirt ridden up just over his navel with that fat cock standing at the ready. 

 

It felt strange, but no less invigorating to have his blood-tacky palms on her naked hips, moving her up and shoving her down in his lap, stretching flesh like a stake through the belly. It stung; hurt like it needed to until she slapped up and down, feeling blood try to keep them stuck together, and hiccuped a moan. 

 

More sticky bliss… more red wet flowed, and Lucas kept waking back up just to die again. 

 

Quinn threw the blade into his chest, felt the hard thud of her curled fist against his ribs and hooked herself in as she rode him while he leaked. The hard sounds he made - snarling and begging  - wedged their way along with his cock, filling holes unused. His bones scraped against steel, grinding as sure as he worked her back and forth inside the hollow of his hips.

 

“Again,” he huffed, tendons in his neck strained as she jerked the knife out of his chest. He gasped and snarled as she embedded it just above his collarbone, jerking it in deeper before ripping it out to stab again. Blood bubbled up out of each new wound. 

 

Quinn did it, again and again, filling him with miniature wells until she was shivering around his cock, rocking down and up as his palms fell limp at his side. She landed a slice over his shoulder, meant for his neck, but her cunt was contracting, pulling and sucking so hard she almost wanted it all to end. 

 

Fear, like seeing yourself falling, tricked her into holding Lucas’ face as she came, watching the glaze of death coat the bulging orbs. No, no… too deep and too far gone now for help. She was gone now. Quinn whimpered as a weak gush of cum spurted inside her; warm and disgustingly addictive.

 

His heart stopped, and with a strange lightness in her gut, Quinn remained hunched over his debased naked body - waiting. 

 

The first she saw of it was the shift of hair in his nose as he inhaled. The rest of him came back online gradually. Heart beating sluggish then fast. Cock twitching into softness. His eyes were the last to come back, flooding with pale color. 

 

His eyelids creased; pupils dilating and dialing in on her watching him.

 

It made no sense, but what made even less sense was how she felt about him at that moment. There was something different, but no less intense about seeing him come back to life - something so profound and intimate that she leaned down and swallowed up his breath with a soft sound, kissing him in a way at odds with the knitting stab wounds on his chest.

 

A strong fist latched the back of her head, pressing her down, twisting her lips along his own. The prickle of his stubble scratched her skin, bringing out another moan and another when his teeth tugged at her tongue. She leaned down, petting the sides of his scruffy face, thumbing the juts of bone and his high hairline, kissing him until her lips were numb and swollen.

 

If this were all a dream, she’d kill herself when she woke up… because going back to life before this was impossible.

 

“...gaw’damn, ten more minutes and we ought to do that again,” he said against her lips, kissing down her chin and neck when she couldn’t manage another lip lock without shaking apart. 

 

“Tell me… please?” Quinn gasped as his fingers found her breasts, thumbs pressing under her hard nipples, “... am I gonna catch this gift of yours now? Cause… fuck this is a lot of fluids, Lucas.”

 

“Mmmm, ain’t it jus’ grand?!”

 

Quinn let him roll her over into the crusty, blood-wet mess  - let him fuck her again as she whimpered and arched, covered in cum and red paste. She didn’t even bother with the knife this time, just kept her eyes lowered between their hips, watching blood worm its way inside her as Lucas brought her to an end again… running her down like a monster in the dark; summoned for some nefarious purpose only she could have use of.

 

Quinn, cupped his face as she panted through another orgasm and pulled him down, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She hugged him until he giggled and rolled them over, wrapping his own arms around her until she could barely draw breath. 

 

“This,” she wheezed as his soft cock slipped out of her for the second time tonight, “this… is fucking awesome.”

 

Lucas’ response was bone chilling, “Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos. I will be posting another chapter (epilog) but I'm not sure when. If you have the time, please let me know what you thought of this one. Thanks again to Zoadgo for Betaing this, and to Darth Fucamus for her insights! <3


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